The trail ran cold three days ago. The traveling makes me weary and the lack of activity makes me itch. You'd be amazed at how quickly the hunt gets old. Tonight is just like last night, which is just like the week, month, years before it. I can't remember the last time I saw home and being away makes me ache. Once this job is done we'll just move on to the next. Nothing ever changes.
Michael is in the backseat hanging his head out of the window. He always says that he feels more at peace with the wind in his face. His quiet, gentle demeanor is a stark contrast to his hulking features. He's the biggest out of the three of us and is often the voice of reason. Just don't piss him off.
Gabriel is driving, paying more attention to flipping between radio stations than the actual road itself. We barely hear more than five seconds of any song before he cycles onto the next. It's giving me a headache. Finally, he comes to a stop on “Heart Shaped Box” by Nirvana.
“Oh, hell yeah!” He exclaims as he sits back in his seat.
“Can't we listen to something else?” Michael complains behind us. This is gonna get ugly.
“What did you just say?” Gabriel takes his music way too seriously.
“Change it, man. I hate this band.” I watch the exchange go back and forth like a tennis match.
“How dare you speak ill of Nirvana! Do you have any idea how much of an impact these guys have had? They're this generation's Beatles.”
“Oh, please. The Beatles had talent, stood the test of time and you can actually understand what they're saying. Nirvana was just another band lifted from obscurity by controversy.”
“Cobain was a lyrical genius.”
“No, Kurt was a martyr that all the little pissed off kids out there could pass off as their own voice. Now his image is nothing more than a T-shirt that's used as rebellion through conformity.”
“Fuck, that. He was a...”
“Watch yourself, Gabe. Isn't there a rule against holding false idols?” I ask him.
“Sorry, Uriel. You just have to keep in mind...” This is where I just stop listening.
He's close. I can sense him. So can the others, because they're not talking anymore. Gabe takes a left on Fulton, a small residential street. As soon as we do, my nose fills with the scent of blood. He's here and we're already to late.
We drive by a two story house just as window on the top floor explodes, sending glass and debris into the yard below. A silver mass flies out of it and disappears into the night. It's Berith. This is worse than I first thought.
Gabe slams on the breaks, grabs his sword from the backseat and climbs out of the car.
“Time to go to work.” Michael says before joining Gabe outside. I grab my sword and follow.
“You two go after him.” I order them. “I'm going to check the house for survivors.”
Gabe unsheathes his sword and spreads his brown wings. “For Kurt!” He screams as he flies off in pursuit.
“Make sure you look after him. You know how he can get.”
Michael nods and follows our partner into the darkness. They're going after a demon of the first hierarchy. As I watch them go I pray that I'll get to see them again.
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